


Change

by Snarkyowl



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Some angst but nothing too overbearing, canon? who's she, never heard of her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 20:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20477123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkyowl/pseuds/Snarkyowl
Summary: The Doctor and the Ponds find their way back to one another, and the Doctor doesn’t plan to leave again. It just takes a few months to convince them of that. And another year or so to convince them both he loves them, but really, what’s a few years compared to a thousand?





	Change

_“I suppose, in the end, they break my heart.”_

And hadn't that been the truth for so very long? Hadn’t that been the one thing he carried with him, every time someone new stepped foot in the TARDIS? Yes, for quite a while his companions had all broken his hearts. They smiled and laughed and cried and lived, and then at some point they didn’t. The smiles were gone, as were the laughs, and the tears. So was the life. 

And it was so terribly lonely.

Sometimes he made himself live with that loneliness. Sometimes he let the years pass by with nothing but the wheezing of his TARDIS, no humans or otherwise present to make his chest ache.  
No one there to remind him he didn’t need to be alone. 

“Doctor?” The voice, so soft and hesitant, makes him smile. Despite the dark place his thoughts have drifted to, he smiles.  
“Hello, Rory.”  
“But how-?” Rory looks like a surprised fish, and if he were any less sorrowful and any more thrilled he might have laughed. As it were, he can only continue to smile at Rory. Judging from the concern that blooms like honeysuckles in Rory’s eyes, the smile mustn’t look very happy. Oops. 

“I’m a time lord. I do what I want.”  
“But this- you can’t be- not that I’m not happy to see you, of course I am it’s just-“  
“Rory.” The Doctor keeps his tone gentle, always gentle around Rory. Because Rory has seen too much, because Rory the Roman deserves a little gentleness after everything he’s been dragged through on the Doctor’s account. “May I come in?”

Rory gapes at him for a moment more before nodding his head and letting out a series of stutters that collects in the Doctor’s mind to form, “Yes, yes of course, please do.”  
Then, Rory calls for Amy. 

There’s a long pause before her voice, irritated but not overly hostile, calls back. “What is it?”  
“Get down here! Now! Preferably!” The Doctor wants to laugh, to cry, to something, at the familiarity of it all. Of the warmth creeping through him, at the fact he can’t seem to stop smiling. His cheeks are getting sore.  
Rory hasn’t stopped staring. 

The two men sit in silence as Amy makes her way to them, and they continue their silence as she enters the room with a gasp.  
“Doctor?”  
“Pond,” the word is said with all of the warmth, all of the love, he has left within him. Embers of a fire that has been dampened time and time again, the broken pieces of his heart crying out. “I’ve missed you.”

Amy sobs, does what he can’t, and then she’s in his arms. She’s in his arms and Rory seems unsure, standing to the side with eyes that shine suspiciously bright. He’s going to cry, too, then. The Doctor reaches out, tugs him in because his hearts ache and his eyes are wet. Because he’s home.  
It took him so long to realize what his home was, and he felt like the biggest idiot to ever exist when it hit him. 

Gallifrey was forever his home land, his origin, but it wasn’t his true home anymore. No, his true home was in the arms of those that loved him. 

“How are you here?” Amy asks, her face buried against his chest. “How is this possible?”  
“I’ve never been good at following the rules, have I? Especially not when it comes to you two.”

Rory looks surprised to be included, and the Doctor squeezes him closer just to spite that surprise. Rory was a part of this, whatever this was. Whatever this was going to be. Rory was a part of it, too, and the Doctor didn’t intend to let him forget that.  
Judging from the death grip Amy had on Rory’s hand, she didn’t either. 

“What does this mean?” Amy meets his gaze now, eyes red and tear filled. Her nose is running and her skin is blotchy, and really it’s not the most attractive she’s ever been, but she is beautiful.  
“It means, Pond, that it’s time for some coffee and snacks.”

She laughs, and so does Rory, and the Doctor doesn’t think he’s ever heard a sound more beautiful. 

-

“Doctor?” Rory’s voice pipes up from behind him, and he glances away from his book to the man leaned in the doorway.  
“Yes, Rory?”  
“When… when are you leaving?” Rory sounds as awkward as ever, unsure of what path he’s meant to be taking when it comes to conversation.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I just. It’s not that I want you to go. Of course I don’t, it’s lovely having you here and all. It’s just. Well. You’re… you. You get bored. And it’s already been, what? A week? So, I was just wondering when you planned to leave, and when you do go if you’d mind-“  
“Rory,” his voice doesn’t waver, which is a pleasant surprise. “Rory I’m not leaving. If that’s alright.”

Rory blinks, mouth open, uncomprehending. The Doctor lets out a soft breath at the familiar expression, thinks back to the first time he saw that mute shock. He had missed all of this, though he could do without the awkward mornings. Those never had gotten easier to navigate.  
“Of course it’s alright, you dolt.” And there’s Amy, snow still melting in her hair, eyes as sharp as daggers. “We’ve kept an empty room for you for… how long?”  
“Years,” Rory whispers, sounding absolutely mystified.  
“Years.” Amy agrees, eyes focused solely on the Doctor. “So don’t even think of leaving, understand?”

“I won’t even consider it.”  
He’s not sure she understands how much he means those words. She’ll understand eventually, though. He knows she will. She’s always been smart. 

-

Six months. Six months of learning how to function as a human being on earth. He gets a job, thinks of Greg as he suggests the best toys for parents to place under the Christmas tree. Wonders how his friend is, wonders about a lot of things, and then he’s spiraling. He’s learned how to deal with spiraling, he’s learned a lot of things. 

Clara would be proud.  
He’s adjusting. He’s learning. He’s coping. 

“Amy? Have you seen my glasses?”  
“The ones you don’t need?” She sounds exasperated, but amused. He gives her his best sheepish but cheeky grin, unable to stop the nervous fluttering of his hands. His hands never sit still when he wants them to, but he’s found he doesn’t mind it. Lovely way to work off excess energy.  
“Yes, those.”  
“They’re in the bathroom on the medicine cabinet. For some reason. I saw them up there when I was dropping off your laundry.”  
“Ah, lovely. Thank you!” He makes sure to make his voice just a bit sing-songy because it always makes her smile when he does. Something about his dorky charms. 

“Oh, Doctor? Rory and I won’t be home for dinner tonight. Work.” The Doctor almost winces at that, but instead he just gives a wobbly smile. Amy looks sympathetic, and he really rather hates that.  
“You two are so busy. I feel like I should get another job.”

Amy laughs despite herself at that, shaking her head vehemently. “No, no you don’t need another job. You’d go insane.”  
“Still! You two are so busy all the time. Absolutely no time for me!” He absolutely does not whine his words out as he flops onto the couch, staring up at her flushed cheeks and wide smile. Beautiful.  
“You’re like a cat, sometimes.” She muses this as she runs a hand through his hair, watching it flop down over the edge of the sofa. The Doctor grins at her, unable to find the right response to that. She continues to fiddle with his hair until her hand comes to rest on his chest and her eyes return to her book. 

The Doctor stays there for as long as his back and legs will allow, basking in the comfort that is his Pond. 

-

“Rory! There you- oh.”  
“Lost a patient.” 

The words come out in a tired croak, and as the Doctor takes in the sight of tired eyes and slouched posture, his hearts crack just a bit. He moves forward before he can think why, arms reaching out as Rory leans willingly into his embrace. The Doctor has never been the best at these things, but he wraps his arms around Rory as tightly as he can and makes sure to tuck Rory’s face against his shoulder. That’s a comforting position, right?  
Of course.  
The movies do it. 

He hasn’t had to do this in such a long time. 

“It’s alright now, Rory. You did all you could. It’s alright.”  
“You're terrible at this.”  
“Hush. I know.”

Rory’s laugh is feeble, but it’s a laugh. The Doctor laughs with him, just a little, because he can’t help it. Rory goes from holding him to gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline, shaking for a moment as he bites back a sob. The doctor hears the way his breathing hitches, hears him swallow the sound like a pill.  
“I’m sorry, Rory. You can’t save everyone.”  
“I know-“  
“But you can stay strong for the ones you do save. It’s not going to get easier, but you will at least know how to cope with it.”

Rory looks at him and something clicks. The Doctor sees the light of understanding, the flickering ghosts that haunt this beautiful man. “You made dinner.”

The sudden observation is startling, but the Doctor nods his head and motions to the table. “I’m still a bit rusty with it, but-“  
“Doctor, it’s going to be amazing.” Rory’s eyes are still dripping tears, but he seems determined to ignore it so the Doctor decides to ignore it as well. For now. Until Amy gets home. 

Until Amy gets home, the Doctor will hold Rory’s hand and pretend death is just something in children’s dark fairytales. 

-

“Doctor.”

He has lived with the Ponds for two years, now. Two wonderful, confusing, happy, terrifying years. Two years of an itch he can’t scratch no matter how much he runs, no matter how many bird houses he puts together, no matter how many children he helps find the perfect toy. 

The tone Amy uses sends a spike of fear through him, ice crawling up his spine.  
“Pond?” And there’s Rory at her side, both looking so serious. So severe. It scares him. It scares him so badly.  
“We need to talk.”  
“What about?”

“We love you,” it’s Rory who says it. Rory who looks so nervous, like something fragile is in his hands and one wrong breath will break it. The Doctor wonders, distantly, if he’s that fragile thing.  
“I love you both, too.” He sounds confused. He knows he does.  
Amy bites her lip.  
“That’s just it, Doctor. We love you.”

He’s not sure he understands. For a little while, he finds himself frozen like a popsicle before them. Just staring, mute and uncomprehending. Of course the Ponds love him, they’ve always made that clear. And he’s always done what he can to make it clear he loves them. So then why is this important?

Then his mind reaches back. A bit further than Amelia Pond and Clara Oswald. Back, back, back. To blonde hair and glassy hazel eyes.

_“I love you.”_

Rose. 

Ah. So that’s what all of this was about. 

“Oh.” He says intelligently.  
Amy barks out a laugh, Rory nervously chuckling along.  
“Yes, Doctor. Oh. We love love you. Now what do you have to say?” Her smile is almost bitter, eyes hardening as though she’s expecting-  
“Oh, Amy.” He doesn’t mean to sound so sad when he says it, but really. After everything, for these two bumbling idiots to think he really wouldn’t love them back is the saddest thing he’s heard in quite a while. “Of course I love you.”

Amy laughs again but this time it’s with relieved tears in her eyes. Rory has gone quiet. The Doctor feels like strangling him.  
“I love both of you so much I quite literally defied the laws of everything to be here. Really, was there any doubt?”

He moves first. A few steps and he’s got them both in his arms, pulling them as close as he possibly can to make sure they know. To make sure they hear how fast his hearts are beating for them.  
Rory nuzzles closer and Amy stubbornly wriggles about until she can steal a kiss. 

The Doctor lets himself fall in love, hard and fast and without regret.

He’s going to be happy. 

-

“Doctor Pond,” he breathes it like a prayer, eyes watching himself in the mirror as he carefully fixes his bow tie. 

He’s going to be married, today.

They’ve waited a handful of years for this. He’s had a ring for a whole two years now, he’s held the title of fiancé for a whole two years. It feels absurd, and yet the fact that he’s finally getting married is… surreal.  
He feels like he’s floating. 

“Doctor? Are you ready?” Clara’s little voice tears him from his thoughts, and he gives her the brightest grin he can. He’s still not sure how she found her way here, but she did. She’s going to walk him down the aisle, and that thought makes him lightheaded. 

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” Clara laughs in that special little way of here, the one that reminds him of Christmas bells. 

Her arm waits patiently for his own to loop around it, and once it’s there she gives it a gentle squeeze.  
“It’s going to go fine.”  
“Of course it is. I’m not nervous. Why would I be? Are-“  
“Doctor.” She’s scolding him with a smile, a knowing gleam in her eyes. He huffs, and definitely not like a petulant child.  
“Fine. I’m nervous. It’s my big day! Of course I am.”

Clara laughs again, resting her head against his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. You’ve known them your whole life. Sort of. Just pretend they’re the only ones here.”

The Doctor does his best to follow her advice as the music starts, but the nerves return when they start moving. His hearts race, he’s fairly certain he’s sweating. 

It all fades when he sees Amy and Rory waiting for him. The sun glows around them, and he’d call them angels if it didn’t bring up so many bad memories to do so. Instead, he calls them ethereal.  
Amy smiles and Rory is already crying. 

The Doctor just grins.  
He’s never been more excited to say, “I do.”


End file.
